Captain Insaneway
by Faithtastic
Summary: Janeway finds herself in an alternate universe. Or does she?


Captain Insaneway

**Captain Insaneway**

**I**

**Scene: The Turbolift.** Janeway is on her way to the Bridge but suddenly the ship lurches and she is catapulted into the side of the turbolift wall. For a few seconds the lights cut out and the lift stops before normal power is resumed. Janeway is lying in an unceremonious heap on the floor and slowly, muttering to herself, she gets to her feet. 

JANEWAY: (using Death Glareä level 1) Computer, report.

COMPUTER VOICE: The structural integrity of your hair is at 97 per cent. 

JANEWAY: (relieved, pushing a stray hair out of her eyes) Thank God. (Pauses and inclines her head, as if having forgotten something) Oh, and the ship?

COMPUTER VOICE: No damage was sustained and all systems are functioning at optimal levels.

JANEWAY: Janeway to Chakotay.

CHAKOTAY VOICEOVER: Yeah? What is it, I'm kinda busy.

Janeway pauses, a frown forming on her face as she hears the barely discernible sound of a woman groaning.

JANEWAY: (distractedly) Sorry but what the hell was that?

CHAKOTAY VOICEOVER: Jennifer Delaney.

JANEWAY: (in a clipped tone) I meant that almighty turbulence we just hit.

CHAKOTAY VOICEOVER: Wow. I thought that was just me.... Heheh. You know, with....

JANEWAY: I'm sure it wasn't just your orgasmic release. (Pauses) Anyway, I want you to get to work to find out what happened there. Have Tuvok and Harry go over the sensor logs.

CHAKOTAY VOICEOVER: Yeah, right, sister! Do it yourself. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another Delaney sister to, ahem, attend to.

Janeway's lips twist into a pout, her face like a cat's arse. Not that I've ever studied a cat's arse in any detail, you understand. It's just a similie, alright? Just then the turbolift comes to a halt and Seven of Nine enters looking decidedly unlike herself. She is wearing a slinky sequinned spaghetti-strapped dress and her hair is in the peek-a-boo coiffure as sported in 'The Killing Game'. Janeway is still brooding over her conversation with Chakotay so she doesn't notice Seven's outfit or the fact that she no longer sports her optical implant.

Silence.

SEVEN: (peevish) Well?

JANEWAY: Mmn? Well what?

SEVEN: It has been precisely ten seconds since I stepped into this turbolift and you have not yet attempted to seduce me.

JANEWAY: (spluttering) What? I don't know what you're implying but you are so far off the mark....

SEVEN: Ah, I understand. (Smirks) You are adopting a new strategy. Subtlety has never been your strong suit. (Nonchalantly) You will fail.

JANEWAY: (angered, her voice at its lowest register) Who the hell do you think you're talking to? I know things were different in the Collective but you've been on this ship long enough to learn the ins and outs of the command structure. I should take you over my knee and give you a damn good sp - (Stops, realising what she is saying, and flushes slightly) Uh, where was I?

Janeway notices Seven's lack of Borg facial accoutrements.

JANEWAY: Your eyepiece. Seven?

SEVEN: (impatient) Captain, the crew calls me Agnetha Faltskog now - though you may call me Agnetha - and most of my Borg components were removed several months ago. Only my abdominal implant remains as it makes my waist look smaller. (Concerned) Are you unwell? Perhaps you should visit the Doctor.

Janeway, confused by the turn of events, glances around herself looking somewhat lost.

JANEWAY: I don't know...(glances at the turbolift walls which are a fetching shade of pink) Cerise? (Pinches her nose as she feels a bad furnishings-induced headache coming on) Good God! Where am I?

SEVEN: The turbolift, Deck 9, subsection...

JANEWAY: No, I mean, this is Voyager isn't it?

SEVEN: (furrowing her brows) You changed the name of the ship three years ago when you decided to renounce Starfleet and abandon their archaic ideals. This is the Free Pornship Velour.

JANEWAY: (weakly) I feel quite ill suddenly.... Maybe I will see the Doctor.

Janeway stumbles then faints melodramatically into Seven's arms.

**II**

**Scene: Sickbay, but not as we know it**. The sparse, sleek, functional Starfleet decor has been replaced by garish 1970s decor including sludge brown carpet, psychedelic patterned wallpaper and beanbags scattered around the room. The unmistakeable sound of Musak can be heard in the background - at the moment, an even ch-easier listening reworking of The Carpenter's 'Top of the World'. The doors part as Seven, or 'Agnetha' as she is now known, carries Janeway's unconscious body into the Sickbay.

SEVEN: (grimacing as one of her spaghetti straps slides irritatingly off her shoulder) If I had been cognicent of the impracticality of such a garment, I would never have let that effete tour guide Mr Paris talk me into wearing it. (Throwing Janeway over one shoulder like the proverbial sack of potatoes) Computer, activate the EMH program. 

The Doctor appears and is resplendent in a white John-Travolta-in-Saturday-Night-Fever-style suit complete with a gold medallion nestled in a chest wig. He is also wearing a ill-fitting blonde toupee that keeps slipping off his baldy head. 

DOCTOR: How may the (affects Barry White voice) Lurve Doctor help you today?

SEVEN: The Captain collapsed in the turbolift. I think she is having delusions.

Seven staggers over to an inflatable fluorescent bed and dumps Janeway on it. The Doctor whips out his tricorder and begins to scan Janeway's vital signs.

DOCTOR: Delusions?

SEVEN: Or she appears to have lost her memory.

DOCTOR: Memory?

SEVEN: When I told her my new designation, and about the renaming of the ship she appeared confused.

DOCTOR: Confused?

SEVEN: (irritated) are you going to repeat everything I say?

DOCTOR: (brightly) only until I annoyed you. (Preening) And I succeeded. Perhaps this has something to do with the spatial phenomenon that we encountered.

SEVEN: Has the phenomenon been classified and analysed?

DOCTOR: (scratching his chest wig absently) Y'know, I don't think anyone got around to it. We were all too busy dancing and drinking and screwing....

SEVEN: Well do not look at me. I do not have time to expend wastefully with (disdainfully) science. I must rehearse for my performance tonight.

Seven is about to flounce out of Sickbay when the Captain regains consciousness, moaning quietly. Seven returns to Janeway's side.

DOCTOR: Ah, Captain Janeway, so nice of you to join us.

JANEWAY: (husky voice) Seven... 

SEVEN: (leaning down close to Janeway) It is Agnetha but, yes, Captain?

JANEWAY: Seven...

SEVEN: Captain?

JANEWAY: ...Mm. That's good. Yesss.

DOCTOR: (scanning with his tricorder) She appears to be in a state of high sexual arousal. Her neurological impulses are off the scale...(nudging Seven out the way) Captain Janeway, this is the Doctor and you're in Sickbay. Captain?

Janeway slowly opens her eyes and, confronted by the sight of the Doctor, she screams and faints. After administering a hypospray, the Doctor brings her to consciousness again.

JANEWAY: (horrified) Doctor, what is that...thing on your head? (Shielding her eyes from the glare of the EMH's outfit) My god! What's going on here?

DOCTOR: (closing his tricorder) You were experiencing a sexual fantasy, apparently about Seven (Seven shoots him a look) er, I mean, Agnetha. And quite enjoyable it sounded too.... Care to recount it for the database?

JANEWAY: (glowering) Doctor. I meant, what the hell has happened to Voyager? I didn't authorise these changes. And when I try to talk to my First Officer I find he's screw, er, fraternising with the crew. (Cranking up to Death Glareä #3) I want some answers.

The Doctor pales, despite the fact he is a hologram, and shrinks back. Janeway jumps off the fluorescent biobed and begins stalking back and forth, deep in thought.

JANEWAY: One minute I was in the turbolift in the Voyager that _I_ knew then we were hit by something and now I'm in some warped reality. Maybe it's a parallel universe or a temporal rift. Or a holodeck simulation devised by malevolent aliens that look like mutant armadillos. Or maybe I'm asleep. (Turns sharply to Seven) Pinch me.

SEVEN: (imperiously) it is customary to make a payment in advance. 

JANEWAY: (Death Glare™ #4) Do it.

Seven, pouting, pinches Janeway. 

JANEWAY: (clutching her arm in agony) Ow! Not _that_ hard!

SEVEN: You failed to specify the level of pressure I was to apply.

JANEWAY: (rolls her eyes in exasperation) Do I have to tell you how to do _everything_?

SEVEN: I am not a telepath. (Raising her chin defiantly) I am not Kes and I refuse to live in her shadow.

Janeway takes a step towards Seven, her Death Glare™ cranked up to maximum. The fact that she is eye-level with Seven's humungous bosom somewhat detracts from the effect. Meanwhile, the EMH is inspecting his appearance reflected in the tricorder screen, fussing with his toupe.

JANEWAY: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

SEVEN: (haughtily turns her back to the Captain) You know.

JANEWAY: (through gritted teeth) No, I don't.

SEVEN: You have always had a...thing for Kes.

JANEWAY: Even if I did, which I don't, why should you care?

SEVEN: (turning to face Janeway again, looking down her nose at the Captain) Your assumption is erroneous, I do not.

DOCTOR: (rolling his eyes towards the ceiling) How can I concentrate with this rabble going on? (Stepping in between the Captain and Seven) Ladies, and I use that term advisedly, this is a Sickbay not some late 20th Century talk show and I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour. I have patients recovering from various sexually incurred injuries, which I obviously can't discuss with you at this time due to doctor-patient confidentiality. (To Janeway) Captain, I want you to return to your quarters and rest for a couple of days. (Janeway opens her mouth to protest) Don't force me to sedate you.

JANEWAY: (crisply) All right but I intend to get to the bottom of this. (To Seven, waggling her finger reprovingly) And I'm not finished with you, young lady. 

As Janeway turns to leave, Seven sticks out her tongue at the Captain whilst thumbing her nose. The Doctor whips out a hypospray from the depths of his voluminously flared trousers and quickly presses it to the Janeway's neck. She promptly keels over onto the floor with a heavy thud.

SEVEN: (surprised) You sedated her? 

DOCTOR: What? (Dismissively) Oh, well, I'm not having some raving midget maniac with huge hair and a resultant hairspray fetish upsetting my patients and disturbing the ambience.

SEVEN: Do you think there is any substance to her claims? We did encounter unexplained turbulence.

The Doctor ponders for a moment, rubbing his chin.

DOCTOR: Nah. She's clearly insane. That or she hasn't yet come down from her last acid trip. I told her she had to wait a few days between fixes but would she listen? Speaking of which, I managed to procure some pot from the last planet we stopped at. Want some?

SEVEN: It impairs my cortical implant. (Pause) Yes.

DOCTOR: (thumbs aloft) Cool.

They carefully step over the Captain to go into the Doctor's office.

****III

**Scene**: **Janeway slowly opens her eyes and her fuzzy vision gradually clears (cue shimmering camera effect) to reveal the Bridge**. She is sitting in the Captain's chair. In the First Officer's chair is a small yellow fruit. When she peers closer she notices the fruit bares a tattoo on it's left half.

JANEWAY: (gasps) Chakotay?

The fruit swivels to look at her, even though it has no eyes.

SMALL YELLOW FRUIT: No, Kumquatay. (Miffed, or about as miffed as he's capable of getting) So it's a tribal name and we may be far from the pips of my ancestors but it's not so difficult to remember. (Noticing Janeway's ashen features) Kathryn? What's wrong?

Janeway merely stares at the little yellow fruit.

JANEWAY: (shaking her head) Nothing. I'm fine. (Mumbling to herself) But I don't find you nearly so attractive anymore.

She methodically takes in the appearance of the rest of the bridge crew. At the Conn, a pert-looking parsnip; at Ops an unripened kiwi fruit; at Tactical, a moudly turnip. Elsewhere a few miscellaneous fruit and vegetables.

KUMQUATAY: Mr. Parsnip - lay in a course for the nearest M class planet. Full impulse.

PARSNIP: (cockily) Aye sir, no sooner said than done.

JANEWAY: (dazed in disbelief) Kumquatay, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room.

Janeway wanders into her ready room and sinks into the chair at her desk with her head in her hands. No sooner has she sat down than the door chimes.

JANEWAY: Come.

She looks up to see a very thin stick of celery walk, or rather bob, halfway into the room. As she squints her eyes she can make out a tiny metallic device attached to the vegetable; she also notices it appears to be rather top-heavy.

JANEWAY: (hesitantly) Yes?

STICK OF CELERY: I must speak with you urgently, Captain. Am I disturbing you?

JANEWAY: (sighs) No. Well, yes...but not in the way that you think. (Rubs her temples in anguish) I need a cup of coffee. Screw that, I need an intravenous drip. (Notices the celery waiting patiently) Sorry. Go ahead, uh... I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name.

STICK OF CELERY: My designation is Celery of Lime.

JANEWAY: (raising her eyebrows in dismay) Of course is it. Please, continue.

CELERY OF LIME: I wish to discuss something of a personal nature.

Abruptly Janeway stands and heads straight for the replicator. She orders a double espresso and walks over to the more informal setting of her couch, motioning for Celery of Lime to join her.

CELERY OF LIME: No thank you. I prefer to stand. (Bobs up to couch and stands perfectly upright in front of the Captain)

JANEWAY: What can I do for you? (Takes an experimental mouthful of coffee and almost gags at the strength of it)

CELERY OF LIME: Would you like to copulate?

Aghast, Janeway spits out her coffee, inadvertently spraying Celery of Lime with the hot liquid. 

JANEWAY: (recovering her composure slightly) I'm so sorry. (Uses the cuff of her uniform jacket to ineffectually wipe some of the coffee off Celery of Lime) Are you okay?

CELERY OF LIME: (shaken) I am undamaged but you have not responded to my proposal.

JANEWAY: (slouching back on the couch) but - but...you're a vegetable!

CELERY OF LIME: I fail to see the relevance.

Suddenly the Captain's comm badge chirps.

KUMQUATAY VOICEOVER: Captain, we're picking up an unidentified alien ship on long range sensors.

JANEWAY: (relieved, almost leaping up from the couch) I'm on my way. (To Celery of Lime) Duty calls.

Janeway practically sprints for the door but Celery of Lime bounces across the floor and attaches herself to the Captain's leg.

CELERY OF LIME: Resistance is futile.

JANEWAY: Get off my leg, you cybernetic freak! (She shakes her leg, furiously trying to dislodge Celery of Lime but the Borg-enhanced vegetable is clinging on via two tiny metallic claws fastened to the Captain's trouser leg) I don't date vegetables. Which is why Chakotay and I never worked out...

In one last attempt Janeway manages to dislodge Celery of Lime and sends her flying across the room into the starfield which Celery rebounds off before landing, immobile, on the couch.

JANEWAY: (strutting onto the bridge running a hand through her mussed hair) Report.

KUMQUATAY: They're on an intercept course and they're heavily armed.

JANEWAY: (snapping immediately into Hard-Bitten Bitch Mode™ as she takes the Captain's chair) On screen. (A large ship resembling a watermelon appears on the viewscreen but Janeway remains unfazed) Hail them.

TURNIP: Hailing frequencies (unnecessary pause) are open, Captain.

JANEWAY: This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starfleet -

KUMQUATAY: Star_swede_.

JANEWAY: (uncomfortably) Star_swede_ starship Voyager.

TURNIP: They are not responding.

JANEWAY: (glances around slyly) Red Alert. (Leering) Arm phasers.

TURNIP: Phasers are at the ready. (Pause) Their weapons are locked upon us.

JANEWAY: Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris, um, Parsnip.

PARSNIP: (arrogantly) Hey, if I can't evade 'em, no one can.

TURNIP: They are firing upon us.

The ship lurches as it is hit and Janeway brushes her disarrayed hair out of her eyes. She notices Kumquatay has rolled off his chair so she picks him up and places him carefully back on the seat.

KUMQUATAY: Thanks.

JANEWAY: (shrugs) I'm sure you'd do the same for me. Harry - damage report.

UNRIPENED KIWI FRUIT: Er, it's Hairy, actually. (Nervously) But, hey, you can call me whatever you want 'cos you're the boss and I'm just an ensign and. (Realises Janeway is fixing him with an impatient glare) Yes, ma'am! Shields are down to 22 per cent.

KUMQUATAY: Bridge to Engineering - Banana, we need more power to the shields.

BANANA TORRES: Yeah, I'm working on it, okay? (Muttering) Patahk! All I ever hear is "Banana do this", "Banana do that." And somehow I'm supposed to compress repairs that take two hours into thirty seconds. Frankly, I'm pissed off. (Pause as she realises the comms channel is still open and her tirade has been broadcast shipwide) Erm, right away Commander. (Desperately) I love you, I want to have your babies!

PARSNIP: Bitch!

There is a pregnant silence. Janeway raises her eyebrow.

JANEWAY: Target alien ship, attack pattern Alpha. (Lounges in her chair, supporting her chin on her palm and throwing one leg nonchalantly over the arm of the chair) Fire.

TURNIP: Their shields (Pause) are holding. They are (Pause) returning fire.

Once again the ship lurches as a barrage of mayonnaise hits it. In the force of the blow, Janeway is thrown from her seat. As she rolls over to pull herself back into her chair she feels something soft and squishy under her hand.

JANEWAY: (grimacing at the yellow goo on the carpet) Turnip, remind me to begin interviewing for a new First Officer when this is all over.

Suddenly there are explosions all around as the alien ship continues to pummel Voyager with coleslaw torpedoes.

VOICE: Captain.

The cacophony of noises continue.

VOICE: Captain. (Shouting) Wake up you power-crazed bitch!

**The scene slowly shimmers into another**. **Sickbay**. Janeway is lying on the sludge brown carpet, a trail of dribble hanging precariously from her chin. The Doctor is kneeling beside her and Seven is standing behind him.

DOCTOR: It's just as well we're not part of Starfleet anymore. I'd have been court-martialed for this, my program would've been reset or -

SEVEN: (interrupting) She could still erase your program. (Sniffs derisively) She is psychologically unbalanced, by your own diagnosis. (Takes a languorous drag from a joint) You are - what is the human vernacular? - Toast.

DOCTOR: (peevish) Yes, thank you for your unswerving support Miss Optimism. How was I to know I'd given her the wrong hypospray? The one with the mind-altering psychotropic substance.

Their attention is diverted from bickering by Janeway thrashing about and whimpering.

DOCTOR: I do hope there won't be any lasting side effects. (To Janeway) Captain. (Shakes Janeway gently by the shoulder) _Captain_. Get a grip for the love of God. (Slaps Janeway repeatedly)

The Captain's eyelids snap open and she seizes the Doctor's wrist in a vice-like grip. She growls dangerously.

JANEWAY: Unless you want to spend the foreseeable future as an emergency holographic teaboy you'd better explain what just happened to me.

SEVEN: (edging away and hiding the joint behind her back) If you will excuse me, I must...assimilate something.

JANEWAY: Not so fast, Anni-Frid or whatever the hell your name is. (Janeway stops, raising her nostrils to the air and inhaling) Is that cannabis I smell?

DOCTOR & SEVEN: No!

DOCTOR: It's my new cologne. (Weakly) Do you like it?

JANEWAY: (sternly) Seven of Nine, come here and show me your hands. 

SEVEN: You will have to catch me first.

Throwing down the joint, Seven makes a break for the door. The Doctor and Janeway watch in a libidinous stupour as Seven scurries out the door in her heels and sequined frock, boobs jiggling as she goes. They continue to stare at the door for a few moments after it closes.

JANEWAY: (clearing her throat) Where was I?

DOCTOR: (brightly) You were chastising me for mistakenly injecting you with recreational drugs. (Pause) Damn! I meant to lie.

JANEWAY: Oh, yes _that_...Well, just see that it doesn't happen again.

Janeway, with a helping hand from the Doctor, gets to her feet.

DOCTOR: (astonished) Is that it? Aren't you going to discipline me?

JANEWAY: (ponders a moment) Nope. I think I warning should suffice.

She begins to walk to towards the door, pursued by the EMH.

DOCTOR: So you aren't going to punish me? Tell me what a naughty hologram I've been? Tie me up and spank me? 

JANEWAY: (alarmed) I'll pretend I didn't hear that. I'm going to make an inspection, though I shudder to think what's become of the rest of the ship. 

DOCTOR: (protesting) But I've prescribed rest and relaxation for you, Captain.

JANEWAY: (stopping in the doorway and glaring at the Doctor) Don't push me. (Pauses, smirking) And Doctor?

DOCTOR: (hopefully) Yes?

JANEWAY: Lose the wig. That's an order.

The Doctor purses his lips, nostrils flaring, as the doors close behind the grinning Captain.

**IV**

**Scene**:** What was once Main Engineering**. The area has been converted into a state-of-the-art gymnasium. The floor is covered with aerobics mats while a climbing frame encases the warp-core, with ropes hanging from it. There are also numerous exercise bikes, rowing machines, treadmills and assorted masochistic devices masquerading as fitness equipment. As Janeway walks in she is confronted by the sight of B'Elanna Torres leading a high-impact aerobics class for geriatric aliens. She is wearing a ridiculously tiny Lycra (or 24th Centrury equivalent) outfit that showcases her huge biceps and thigh muscles she could crack walnuts with. Her hair is pulled back into a severe ponytail and she wears a sadistically glinting whistle around her neck on a piece of string. Her class are on their last legs - or they would be if they were bipedal, some of them having tentacles.

TORRES: One, two, three and kick. And again. (Screaming) I said kick! I bet your mothers could spread their legs wider than that. Just before I - (One by one the members of her class drop onto the floor in irreversable coma) Patahks! Get up! (starts blowing her whistle) I'm gonna whip you f****** pussies into shape and you're not leaving this f****** room until you're fit or you're dead.

Janeway, observing discretely at the side, blanches at B'Elanna's colourful language. Eventually Torres notices the Captain and undergoes a radical personality change.

TORRES: (smiling beatifically) Alright that's enough for today. You did very well (under her breath) for non-Klingons. Same time tomorrow then.

The last pupil left standing collapses next to B'Elanna's feet. She prods him experimentally with her toe then steps over him to cartwheel up to Janeway without even breaking a sweat.

TORRES: Captain, I wasn't expecting you.

JANEWAY: I like the hands-on approach.

TORRES: (leering) I'm sure you do...

JANEWAY: (swiftly sidestepping B'Elanna's flirtations) I see there's been a few changes here.

TORRES: (defensively, hands on hips) Look, the stocks and the torture rack were taking up way too much room. Something had to go and we do kinda need the warp-core after all.

JANEWAY: (perturbed) Quite. I couldn't help but notice how hard you were on those people. They look like they've been at it for days.

TORRES: Two and a half to be precise. (Glances over her shoulder at the heap of rancid, unconscious bodies and shrugs) They enjoy it really. Speaking of which, perhaps I could interest you in some strenuous cardiovascular activity, some personal tuition, (Flexes her biceps) some one-to-one, sweat-inducing, body-pumping -

JANEWAY: (interrupting in a clipped tone) I won't be subjected to coarse sexual innuendo from my crewmembers, it's gross insubordination and I won't stand for it. I know you had a rough and ready life with the Maquis where a certain degree of camaraderie was acceptable and even encouraged but I won't tolerate it on my ship. There is a boundary and you have just crossed it.

TORRES: What? (Snorts derisively) Have you developed a selective memory or have the hairspray fumes finally gone to your head? You are always making suggestive comments about torpedo tubes. How come it's okay for you and not the rest of us?

JANEWAY: It's my prerogative as Captain. (Folding her arms) Besides, my hair's bigger than yours.

TORRES: Hah! We'll see... Anyway I seem to remember you weren't complaining much about my dirty talk last night. (Pretends to be deep in thought) In fact, I seem to recall you were positively encouraging me.

JANEWAY: (powering up the Death Glare) Watch what you say, they may be the last words you speak.

TORRES: Since when did you get so prissy anyway? They don't call you 'Janeway all the way' for nothing...

The Captain is momentarily aghast but then her eyes narrow into lasers.

JANEWAY: Who calls me that? I want names.

Torres shrinks back, her bravado gone.

TORRES: Everyone. (Janeway's eyes narrow further still) All right! (Blurting) It was Kes!

JANEWAY: (shocked) Kes? But she's didn't have a malicious bone in her body. (Quickly) Not that I've ever seen her body. She was so sweet natured and kind and, frankly, a bit simple. She could never have advertantly come up with such a witty quip. (Pause) And I never had anything but maternal feelings towards her.

TORRES: We_ are _talking about the same Ocampan Jezebel, aren't we? That little tramp had been around the entire crew twice by the time she decided to leave the ship to start up her own colony of free loving. That bitch was responsible for breaking up my relationship with Tom. (Pause) Oh, wait, that was Harry. (Aside) Homewrecker!

JANEWAY: (still stunned) I can't believe it.

TORRES: It's true, he and Tom mince around this ship like they own it. (Sniffs) Not that I'm bitter.

JANEWAY: (irritably) I meant Kes, not Tom and Harry. (Smirk) Like we couldn't see _that_ coming...

TORRES: Oh, well... So, are we going to have sex or what?

JANEWAY: (unleashing the Death Glare on B'Elanna) No, we are not.

As the Captain turns and struts towards the door, B'Elanna shouts after her.

TORRES: You might as well give up. You're never gonna lay her.

Janeway stops but doesn't face B'Elanna.

JANEWAY: (twitching with anger) What?

TORRES: The Bjorn Borg bitch. (Cackles) She'd probably give you frostbite anyway.

The Captain opens her mouth to respond but says nothing, calmly walking out on B'Elanna.

TORRES: Bitch! (To vent her rage, B'Elanna kicks one of the unconscious aliens. Unfortunately she kicks a body in which rigour mortis has set and she howls) Ow! (Hopping on her other foot) Damn, I'm horny.

**V**

**Scene**:** Captain's Quarters**. Janeway is sitting in the dark on her couch holding a photograph frame in her hand. The picture features her ex-fiancé Mark but in the photo he is a six foot plus black man with tattoos and copious jewellery and is posing with Janeway (in leathers) and their pet rottweiler Trixie. 

JANEWAY VOICEOVER: Captain's Personal Log, Stardate: Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. Today made all the terrible obstacles and traumas I've faced in the past five years, especially being stranded with Chakotay on that planet, look like an all-singing, all-dancing musical extravaganza. To start with I've discovered that, on this warped version of Voyager, the crew consider me, or the Janeway that _they _know, to be some kind of egotistical nymphomaniac, totally bereft of moral integrity. Then I discovered that the ship itself is a space-faring palace of licentious debauchery. Worse still, the revelation that Kes, the most naive and compassionate member of _my_ crew, was, to my counterpart, an executive stress-relief toy and prostituted herself to all and sundry. Going through some of the other Janeway's personal belongings I found some black lacy lingerie embroidered with the message 'something to remember me by, Kes'. I also found a container under my bed filled with vibrators of every colour, shape and girth imaginable (and some mind-bogglingly unimaginable). Most distressing is the constant barrage of sexual propositioning directed at me even by the most junior of crewmembers. The entire crew appears to be under the impression that I'm game for anything. I don't know how much longer I can fend them off, it has been five years after all... End log.

Janeway stares despondently at the photo before laying it on the couch next to her. She sits there for a moment then a thought pops into her mind and she gazes speculatively towards the bedroom.

**Scene**:** Meanwhile in the Sickbay. **The Doctor is absently combing his chest wig when the doors part. Tom Paris staggers in, his arm around Harry Kim's shoulders for support. They are both in a state of disarray: Tom is bare-chested with a towel around his waist covering the pertinent parts while Harry is wearing only his snug little underpants and a tight-fitting T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan 'I can't even think straight'.

PARIS: (groaning) Doc, you gotta help me.

DOCTOR: (pursing his lips) Groin strain _again_? Really Mr. Paris -

HARRY: (interrupting) Er, maybe you'd better look for yourself.

Harry helps Tom over to one of the inflatable bio beds and Tom lies down on his chest.

DOCTOR: Well?

Harry nods towards Tom's butt and the strange object protruding from it, covered by the towel.

DOCTOR: Oh, I see. (The EMH picks up one corner of the towel and peeks under it) My God!

The Doctor glares at Harry who looks away sheepishly.

DOCTOR: A beer bottle? I don't suppose I need ask how it got there, Mr. Kim?

KIM: Uh, he fell on it?

DOCTOR: Hm. A likely story. (He prods the bottle and Tom wails in pain) Oh, don't be such a prima donna. It serves you right for not heeding my last warning about inserting foreign objects up your rectal passage.

PARIS: Just get it out of me!

DOCTOR: And resist the opportunity to gloat? Never. Now, what was it I removed last time? Oh yes, a hypospanner. And the time before that, a compression phaser rifle. Highly dangerous...

KIM: Doctor, _please_.

DOCTOR: All right. (Condescendingly) I take it you've tried removing the object yourselves?

KIM: It's stuck fast.

DOCTOR: Then I'll have to operate. I'll have that out of you in a jiffy. 

The EMH pats Tom's bottom in reassurance and Tom howls in agony. Just then the lights begin to flicker and interference affects the Doctor's holographic projection. He rolls his eyes and tuts loudly.

PARIS: (worriedly) Power surge?

DOCTOR: Drain more like. It appears the Captain has also reacquainted herself with foreign objects. Of the vibrating variety. I'm afraid you're surgery is going to have to wait until she's satisfied, Mr. Paris. It would be inadvisable for me to operate under these conditions.

Tom groans.

DOCTOR: Never mind. Perhaps you could use your waiting time productively by reviewing this padd detailing the dangers of your little peccadillo. (Places the padd on the bio bed in front of Tom's face) Or maybe next time I should supervise proceedings in case of an emergency arising...

The Doctor minces off into his office leaving Harry and Tom to stare at each other dumbfounded.

**VI**

**Scene: Holodeck 1.** Tom Paris's program Sandrine's has been revamped into a seedy cabaret/cocktail bar called Beverly's. Along one wall there is a full-length bar stocked with every lethal alcoholic concoction known to the Delta Quadrant and beyond, thanks to Seven's enyclopaedic knowledge of cocktails (from the little-known Borg database). The bar is run by Neelix but unfortunately he is no better at making a margarita than he is at cooking. A couple of waitresses in flame-haired wigs and tiny medical labcoats that do little to conceal their modesty are doing the rounds of wiping tables, collecting glasses and taking drinks orders. On one side of the room is a small stage with three mics. set up, one to the front of the stage and the others at the back. At the back of the bar-room is a curtained off area.

Janeway saunters into the bar. Upon seeing her, Neelix, even more garrishly attired than usual in a gold lame suit, quickly activates the solitary mirror ball on the ceiling before resuming his meticulous polishing of the bar counter. A few miscellaneous alien passengers are sitting at the scattered tables sipping exotically coloured cocktails while Tuvok and two burly men quietly survey the room, dressed in a black tuxedos. Dismayed by it all, Janeway wanders up to the bar. Neelix, who has been scrubbing at the same speck of dirt for the past half hour, begins to sweat profusely.

NEELIX: (twisting the cloth in his hands in anguish) Ah, Captain. What will it be?

JANEWAY: Just an orange juice, please.

Neelix barks with laughter. Janeway hoists one eyebrow slowly.

NEELIX: Very funny you old alcoholic. Name your poison.

JANEWAY: (glaring, her voice deadly calm) An orange juice, please.

Neelix titters nervously, pulling at his collar.

NEELIX: One JO coming up. (Realises his slip of the tongue and covers his head with his arms protectively.) Er, OJ, I mean OJ.

Just then the doors to the holodeck part and the Doctor enters.

JANEWAY: (ducking her head) Wait. Make that a vodka and orange. (The Doctor spots her at the bar and purses his lips. Janeway groans) A double. Make it a double.

Neelix places the Captain's drink on the counter, pushing it towards her with a long stick-like implement before cowering behind the bar. The Doctor arrives.

DOCTOR: (disapprovingly) Captain, I specifically told you to rest.

JANEWAY: (sipping her vodka and making a face at the strength of it) And I am specifically telling you to leave me alone.

DOCTOR: Fine, but don't come crying to me with your hangover. Anyway, I'm not here to lecture you, I came to see Ulrika's performance.

JANEWAY: Ulrika? Oh, Seven. (Intrigued) What performance?

DOCTOR: (cocking his eyebrow) Not _that_ kind of performance. She'll be singing a selection of torch songs tonight. (Preening) She really has improved in leaps and bounds since I've bestowed the expertise of my voice coaching upon her. I dare say one day in the distant future she'll almost be as accomplished as I am. (Launching into song) 'At first I was afraid, I was pertrified...'

Janeway takes the opportunity to slip away while the Doctor is so absorbed in his rendition of 'I Will Survive'. She makes her escape into the curtained area. Once inside she realises she has stumbled into the makeshift dressing room. There are make-up mirrors and mannequins covered in stage clothing. The Delaney sisters, Jennifer and Megan, are squeezing themselves into basques while Seven is standing with her back to the Captain, her frock pooled around her waist. She appears to be inflating her not-quite-so-bountiful breasts with what looks like a 20th Century hand-held bicycle pump. Staring mutely, Janeway quickly knocks back the contents of her glass.

SEVEN: (glancing over her shoulder as she notices Janeway's presense) Captain, would you assist me?

JANEWAY: (uncomfortably) I'm not sure, what would it entail?

SEVEN: The fastening of this garment is beyond my reach. Please assist.

JANEWAY: Oh the zip. You want me to zip you up.

The Captain sighs with relief.

SEVEN: (as she pulls the straps up over her shoulders) What did you think I was suggesting?

JANEWAY: Er, never mind.

She zips up Seven's dress and notices that Seven is staring at her oddly when she turns to face the Captain.

JANEWAY: What?

SEVEN: I suspected you might have utilised that opportunity as a means of seduction.

JANEWAY: (rolling her eyes) For the love of Picard!

SEVEN: Then you wish me to believe that you are not attracted to me? (Seven picks up a perfume bottle, a popular eau de toilette amongst the Borg drones, Calvin of Nine, and squirts an ample amount around her neck and bosom) My hair pigmentation may be blonde but I am not ignorant.

JANEWAY: You want to know what I think?

SEVEN: (examining her fingernails) Not particularly.

JANEWAY: I think you enjoy the little games that you and this other me play.

SEVEN: Irrelevent.

JANEWAY: (smirking) You _want_ her to seduce you.

SEVEN: Wrong.

JANEWAY: (taking a step closer, almost nose to...well, bosom with Seven) But I'm not her and you can't stand the possibility that I'm not the least bit interested in you sexually.

SEVEN: If that is true, Captain, why is your hand on my left buttock?

JANEWAY: Oh! (Recoils) How did that get there? Bad hand.

Just then Neelix pops his head around the curtain and everyone jumps in fright, the Delaney sisters losing their battle with their basques and exposing themselves to all and sundry.

NEELIX: (peeking through his stubby little fingers) Er, sorry. Curtain call in two minutes ladies. (Disappears back through the curtain)

SEVEN: I believe you are in denial, Captain. (Pauses to pull on black suspenders, attaching them to her garter belt. All the while Janeway watches, ogling Seven's impossibly long legs.) I have observed the way you appraise my body, especially my mammary glands. Please explain.

JANEWAY: (pulling at her collar) Well... they're kind of difficult to miss. You could take someone's eye out with those nipples. Or use them as coat hangers.

SEVEN: (blinks) That would be impractical... but efficient.

JANEWAY: Besides, I've been celibate for the last five years. I even resisted Chakotay's attempts to get me into the sack - and he's persistent. Ever since the whole embarrassing James T. Kirk era, Starfleet has insisted that all Captains embark on a pheromone innoculation program. I have to visit the Doctor once a month for a booster jag... I think I missed the last one.

SEVEN: You are definitly _not_ from this reality.

JANEWAY: (pissed off) That's what I keep telling you people. Why does no one believe me?

SEVEN: Alright. But I still think you intend to seduce me.

JANEWAY: That would imply leading you into something against your will. From what I can see... (glances at Seven's alarmingly protruding nipples, like two photon torpedoes straining against her Spandex gown) you're more than willing, sweetheart.

Seven's lower lip juts out in petulance.

SEVEN: No! I... I... (Melodramatically turns away, her back to Janeway) I wish to be alone. Please leave.

JANEWAY: (in a gentle voice) So you see, I can't reciprocate your feelings, Anni - Ulri - Agnetha. Starfleet protocol forbids it and, well, I prefer men.

Seven stiffens and turns to face Janeway, her eyes cold and face impassive.

SEVEN: Any emotional resonance I may once have associated with you was transitory at best. I saw you as a maternal figure (Janeway gasps in horror) and nothing more. In fact, you will be pleased to hear that I have acquired a new relationship.

JANEWAY: Oh. (Silence as her jaw clenches visibly.) I see. With whom?

SEVEN: As a matter of fact... (She glances around then spots the curtain parting, seeing a whiskery face emerge.) Neelix!

NEELIX: You're on in - mmf! (Seven seizes him by the lapels and kisses him with Borg precision.) Mmf.

Janeway stares, pursing her lips as she slowly purples with rage, her face clashing hopelessly with her uniform. The kiss continues and Neelix's whiskers one by one ping erect. As he begins to turn blue from lack of oxygen, Seven finally breaks off the kiss as abruptly as it started. Neelix crumples to the floor in a quivering, gurgling wreck, babbling incoherently.

SEVEN: (whips out some lippy and applies it perfectly) My audience awaits me.

JANEWAY: Break a leg. (Casts a murderous glance at Neelix.) Or two.

Seven flounces out leaving a fuming Janeway in her wake. The Delaney sisters, with osterich feathers towering precariously over their heads, teeter after Seven, stepping over Neelix on their way. After a moment Janeway follows, pausing to stomp on Neelix's face with her booted heel. 

JANEWAY: Oh, sorry, was that your face?

Neelix passes out, blood staining his gold lame suit.

**Scene: Beverly's. The stage**. Seven is gazing out at the darkened bar, the Delaney sisters behind her. 

SEVEN INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: This Janeway intrigues me. She denies her attraction to me yet she is unable to conceal it. She is more of a challenge than the Captain Janeway I know; she is 'playing hard to get' as the humans term the strategy. I shall alter my tactics accordingly although I shall pursue a more suitable candidate than Neelix...Kathryn Janeway _will _be mine. Mwahahahaha!!!!

**VII**

**Scene: The Messhall**. Rows of seating are assembled before a cleared space at the front of the room. There is a podium with a microphone atop. The crew are gathered to witness an awards ceremony which Janeway is halfway through presenting. her co-host for the evening is Seven of Nine, wearing a shimmery lavender gown with plunging neckline.

JANEWAY: And once again, please put your hands together for Vorik, (pauses to read cue card) exotic belly dancing champion for the third consecutive year. Well done.

The crew cheers and Vorik, clutching his award, is escorted off by one of the Delaney sisters.

JANEWAY: (aside to Seven) Remind me why I'm going along with this charade? Whose idea was this exactly?

SEVEN: It was Commander Chakotay's suggestion, in his capacity as Entertainments Manager. It was his belief that crew morale required supplementation.

JANEWAY: Well, he's conspicuous in his absence anyway.

SEVEN: Indeed, but it was generous of him to provide a satellite link-up to his quarters.

They both stare at the huge viewscreen behind them, providing a backdrop to the ceremony. It shows Chakotay's bedroom and they watch as Jennifer Delaney shrieks loudly as Chakotay plunges his tumescent member into her aching vadge.

JANEWAY: (breathlessly) Quite. (Glances at cue card again) The final award is the most hotly contested. Seven?

SEVEN: The nominations for the Deanna Troi Award for Outstanding Use of Superfluous Dialogue are... Tuvok for 'Captain, we're under attack'; Tuvok again for 'Captain, Vulcan mind melds have some minor pschological repercussions''; and once again Tuvok for 'I find Neelix quite irritating, can I kill him?'

Neelix pouts, his whiskers drooping.

JANEWAY: And the winner is... Tuvok for 'Captain, we're under attack.'

The crowd boos and hisses. Tuvok ignores the jeers and dodges the rotten fruit thrown at him, going up to the podium. He produces a ten-page acceptance speech from behind one of his ears.

TUVOK: It would not... have been possible... for me to receive this... award without the... immeasurable... and appreciated support...

Three hours later, everyone has nodded off to sleep. Janeway awakes with a start to catch the end of Tuvok's speech.

TUVOK: ... and therefore, in conclusion... it is with very well supressed... pleasure that I accept... this award. Thank you.

MEANWHILE.... back in the Alpha Quadrant...

A dimly lit medical bay, two figures are writhing passionately on a biobed. Grunts and muffled moaning can be heard. Suddenly one pf the amorous pair rears their head, their flowing dark tresses whipping through the air. It is Deanna Troi, esteemed counsellor aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise.

TROI: (gasping melodramatically) I'm sensing something. An emotion. Very faintly. Far away. Great irreverence towards me.

The other person drags flowing russet tresses away from their face. Beverly Crusher, for it is she, revered medic and mother of Starfleet's most irritating crewmember after Neelix, props herself up on one elbow, the lights perfectly highlighting her fabulous bone structure. She arches one perfectly formed eyebrow in question.

CRUSHER: Well, it doesn't take an empath to tell you that I'm sensing great frustration. (Growls) And a smacked bottom.

TROI: Now I'm sensing an enjoyment of authority. (Glances down at Beverly's bush) It's certainly less scratchy than Will's beard. (Chowa down again)

BACK ON VOYAGER...

JANEWAY: (coughs loudly to wake everyone up and leads a round of applause) Thank you, Tuvok. A riveting speech.

Janeway nudges Seven awake, who had been snoring quietly.

SEVEN: Is it me? Oh, the Captain has one more important announcement to make.

JANEWAY: Yes, as you all know, it wasn't so long ago that Kes left this crew to evolve into a higher state of being by, erm, starting her own colony of sexual liberation. While the memory of Kes may be fading in our minds, she will always have a place in our hearts.

TORRES: (cat-calling) And our pants!

JANEWAY: But there is one living reminder of Kes in our midst, someone who has been working diligently, brightening our days with their cheerful and compassionate dispostion. (Neelix perks up, edging up from his seat in anticipation) That someone is Kes's first season wig - a Tribble far from home as we are. And so it's with great pride and joy that I appoint Kes's wig the position of Lieutenant. 

The crew erupts into a frenzy of applause, all except Neelix who weeps quietly into a hankerchief, having been passed over in the tribute to Kes. Kes's wig bounces up to the podium and Janeway carefully attaches a second pip hairclip to the wig. 

JANEWAY: (shouting out) Tuvok, I hear you're looking for additional Security personnel? I recommend Kes's wig.

TUVOK: I agree, a wise choice, Captain.

Neelix wails suddenly and collapses in grief.

**VIII**

**Scene: The Captain's Ready Room**. A far cry from the usual understated elegence of the Starfleet design on the normal Voyager. Think: the most taste-deprived Ferengi run amok. Or Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen. * Janeway is reclining on a zebra-print loveseat with vibrating function. A quiet hum fills the room and a smile spreads slowly over her face. She is studying a padd containing the sensor logs of the past few days.

JANEWAY: (sipping on a martini - 1000 varities programmed into the replicator and no coffee) Hmm, so the sensors detected a temporal anomaly. It was recorded in the database yet nothing was done about it. No kind of scientific investigation whatsoever. Apparently the only thing that warrants a red alert here is if the bar runs out of cocktail umbrellas. 

The door chime sounds, a chirping digitised version of Lionel Richie's 'Hello'. 

JANEWAY: (grimacing) Come.

Tom Paris appears as the doors part and he minces into the room, one wrist dangling limply. He is wearing a t-shirt which says 'the family line ends here' in big pink lettering. 

PARIS: I might. Or is that just a can of hairspray in your pocket?

JANEWAY: (crisply) Is there something I can help you with, Mr Paris?

PARIS: (one hand to his chest defensively) Oooh, somebody got out of bed on the wrong side this morning. Or should that be the alcove?

Tom waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

JANEWAY: Tom. Your point? I know you must have one. Because even you aren't stupid enough to deliberately annoy me.

PARIS: I don't show my point to just anyone. (Pauses) Which is why I'm here. You remember that today's the big day?

JANEWAY: No.

PARIS: (gasps) Why, Harry and my non-denominational, non legally-binding blessing ceremony. You're the only one that can conduct the ceremony. 

JANEWAY: (slaps her forehead, feigning forgetfulness) Of course, how could I forget?

Tom wraps one leg coquettishly around the other.

PARIS: I can't believe I'm finally being made an honest woman... in the context of an open relationship of course. Monogamy's only a state of mind. I asked Chakotay to be best man but he said he'd be too busy fu-

JANEWAY: Conducting sexual relations, I know. Does he do anything else?

PARIS: Well, he plays the digeriedoo.

JANEWAY: I do hope that's not a euphemism.

PARIS: (nudges Janeway) Dirty bitch. Sooo... Harry asked B'Elanna to be best man instead and she accepted.

JANEWAY: That's very noble of her, considering your past together.

PARIS: Nah, not really. As best man, she get first choice of the bridesmaids. So, it's 1500 in Holodeck 1. (Looks Janeway up and down critically then sighs) Try and find something a bit classier to wear.

****IX

**Scene: Holodeck 1.**

It is a bright summer's day on Earth. Or an accurate facsimile of. A beautiful green lawn stretches as far as the eye can see bordered by apple trees. Rows of white chairs are set out in a semi-circle before a huge ivy-covered arch. A path, sprinkled with rose petals, leads towards it, cutting the assembled chairs into halves. Behind the arch, a string quartet is playing a medley of Steps* songs while a trio of drag queens perform the appropriate dance moves. They are mid-way through the routine for 'Tragedy' when Janeway arrives through the Holodeck doors. All the guests have already arrived and are taking their seats. Suppressing a shudder at the sheer kitsch value of the ceremony, Janeway, in full Starfleet dress uniform, takes her place under the arch beside B'Elanna Torres who is resplendent in a grey morning suit, complete with top hat and tails, and a pink flamingo. Just then, the doors part to reveal Harry and Tom in flowing white bridal gowns, paired rather daringly with Doc Martins. They are followed down the aisle first by Kes's first season wig as matron of honour (wearing a tiara) then the Doctor, Seven and the Delaney sisters in huge pink meringue dresses as the bridesmaids. The Doctor is wearing a red wig, looking rather like Beverly Crusher but without the fabulous bone structure.

Janeway clears her throat.

JANEWAY: Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of Thomas Eugene Paris and Harold Kim. If anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.

A big black drag queen wearing a blonde wig and a tiger-print leotard near the back stands precariously on six-inch stilettos, waving one hand in the air.

DRAG QUEEN: Yoo hoo! I do.

JANEWAY: Yes?

DRAG QUEEN: (puts hands on hips and speaks in Texan drawl) I sure do, girlfriend. That outfit you're wearing is so last season.

Everyone murmurs in agreement. 

JANEWAY: (irked) I meant, does anyone have any objections to this pretend family relationship?**

Everyone is silent although B'Elanna is furiously chewing her lip.

JANEWAY: (gritting her teeth) Good, now let's get this over with. Tom, do you take Harry to be your lawfully undervalued spouse?

PARIS: (beaming) I do.

In the audience, Neelix wipes a wistful tear away before looking longingly at Tuvok seated next to him. The Vulcan quickly shuffles his chair a few inches away.

JANEWAY: And do you, Harry, take Tom to be your eternally regretted spouse?

HARRY: (grinning) I do.

JANEWAY: Then by the power invested in me, I declare you husband and, er, husband. You may – (before Janeway has the chance to finish, Tom grabs Harry by the buttocks and rams his tongue down his throat) kiss the bride.

The Doctor looks expectantly at Seven, puckering his lips. Seven merely looks at him with contempt and flounces off. He stares down at his feet, downcast, only to watch Kes's first season wig brush flirtatiously against his skirts. A self-satisfied smirk spreads over his rubbery face as he turns to follow it/her.

**Scene: Holodeck 2**. 

The reception is in full swing, in a giant marquee (or should that be Maquis, arf, arf.) Tables surround a dancefloor and Chakotay is DJing on his mobile disco turntables, currently belting out 'We Are Family.' Tom and Harry are on the dancefloor, still playing tonsil hockey and B'Elanna is also on the floor, suggestively sandwiched between the Delaney sisters. The Doctor and Kes's wig are nowhere to be seen, although ominous noises can be heard from underneath the tablecloth at the rearmost table. Tuvok and Seven of Nine are seated at the bar, shooting tequilla. Janeway is sitting alone at a table, her head in her hands.

Soon after the song ends, B'Elanna takes the stage to give her 'best man's' speech. She is worse for the wear of drink.

TORRES: I'd like you all to raise your glasses to Tom and Harry. As you all know, Tom and I used to screw each other, that was before Tom (makes her fingers do air quotes) _decided_ that he preferred fucking men. I mean, if I'd known he was a jobby-jabber in the first place, I never would have shagged him. Which would probably explain why he could never find my clitoris. And also why he wanted me to use a strap on. On him. My God, why didn't I see it? Let me tell you, I've never faked so many orgasms in my life. But apart from that, Tom's a real swell guy and I couldn't wish Harry Kim on a nicer person. 

Everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats.

TORRES: And now what the girls have all been waiting for. The bouquet throwing.

All the women on Voyager and Neelix suddenly flock onto the dancefloor as Harry and Tom take to the stage. The bouquet flies over their hands and lands on Janeway's table. She rouses herself to pick it up and about fifty women and Neelix leap upon her. After a gallant struggle, Neelix manages to restle it free of her grasp, waving it triumphantly in the air. He winks at Tuvok slumped at the bar. 

Janeway, looking as though she's been dragged through a bush backwards, emerges from the heap of bodies and staggers towards the doors. Halfway there she stumbles and falls but continues dragging herself along the floor. Suddenly Chakotay starts up the music, a dance remix of 'I Am What I Am.'

JANEWAY: Uurgh. (through gritted teeth) Can't take it… any… more. Need… heterosexuality. Urgh! 

She makes it out into the corridor before finally blacking out from the sheer gayness of it all.

* = Steps, you might've heard of them. Abba wannabes, crap, easy-to-learn–for-five-year-olds dance routines. Vacuous blondes, and that's just the guys. 

** = this isn't expressing the author's opinion. In the UK there's been a whole uproar about teaching schoolchildren about gay people and gay sex education. There's this clause of local government law called Section 28 that's about to be repealed and it forbids the portrayal of gay relationships as an alternative to heterosexual relationships, and hence, gay relationships are somehow 'pretend.' This is my ironic little dig at that legislation, no offence to gay people intended, 'cos, hell, I'm a lesbian and most of my friends are gay men.

**X**

****Scene: **Corridor outside Holodeck 2**. 

Janeway slowly regains consciousness only to find Seven of Nine looming over her, hands on hips.

JANEWAY: Astrid? I mean, Agnetha?

SEVEN: Yes, Captain. I have decided that I no longer wish to play your games. In the Collective, if we saw something we wanted, we went ahead and assimilated it. This human concept of romance is inefficient and ineffective. You are mine, resistance is futile. 

JANEWAY: Look, I'm not a possession. You can't just – woah!

Before Janeway can finish her sentence, Seven grabs her by the ankles and starts dragging her along the corridor. Destination: Cargo Bay 2. B'Elanna Torres has been watching from the shadows, having managed to slink away from the reception disco and escape the vice-like grip of the Delaney sisters. She leaps out in front of Seven, blocking her path.

TORRES: (growling menacingly) Hey, Heidi! Where d'you think you're going with her?

SEVEN: Stand aside. Or I will move you myself forcibly. Into the nearest bulkhead.

TORRES: Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you try, Pippy Longstocking.

Seven tries to barge her way past B'Elanna but the gym instructor retaliates by grabbing Janeway's wrists. They begin a tug of war for the Captain.

TORRES: She was my girlfriend first.

SEVEN: Was not. This is my Kathryn. Yours is on the other ship.

TORRES: Tough. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

JANEWAY: (shrieking a la Penelope Pitstop) Help! Help! Somebody help!

Just then, Seven and B'Elanna pull on their respective limbs too hard, thus dislocating both of Janeway's arms and legs. The Captain blacks out again, her body a mangled heap on the floor. 

TORRES: Oops.

SEVEN: Indeed.

The doors to Holodeck 2 part and Tuvok peers out, seeing the aftermath of the tug of war. Seven and B'Elanna look at him innocently then look at each other. They make a run for it, expecting Tuvok to pursue them. Instead he shrugs and is pulled back inside the doors by Neelix's furry little hand.

**Meanwhile on the Bridge**: Chakotay has also slipped away from the reception, leaving Abba's Greatest Hits on loop, and is sitting in the Captain's chair with Jennifer Delaney straddling his lap. They are having sex. Quelle surprise.

CHAKOTAY: (pumping frantically and panting) It's… always… uh… been one of my… uh… fantasies to… do it… ooh… in the… uh… Captain's… uh… chair…

J. DELANEY: Less chat, more shag.

As Jennifer bobs up and down ever more furiously on Chakotay's crotch, her arms start flailing around. Blissfully unaware, she accidentally knocks one of the controls on the arm of Janeway's chair. 

COMPUTER VOICE: Warning: course alteration will result in collision course with sun. Impact in three minutes.

CHAKOTAY: There's not enough… uh… time. Must… reach… uh… orgasm.

COMPUTER VOICE: Radiation levels exceeding safety parameters.

CHAKOTAY: (face turning purple as the radiation begins to take effect) I'm… uh… nearly… there.

As Chakotay orgasms, he and Jennifer Delaney pass out from the radiation.

COMPUTER VOICE: Hello? You're all going to die in thirty seconds. (Sighs) Fine, just ignore me then. 

Just then the Bridge doors part and Kes's first season wig comes bounding through, somersaulting through the air to land on the arm of Janeway's chair. As the sole conscious crewmember on board, it's up to the wig to save the day. Unfortunately, as it's about to enter the override sequence, Kes's wig suddenly catches fire. It burns away leaving only the charred remains of a hairclip with two shining pips attached.

**Scene**: **Sickbay**. When Janeway comes to, she is in Sickbay. All she can see is the ceiling because her entire head is encased in a metal brace, anchoring her to a biobed. Moments later the Doctor appears in her field of vision. He is no longer sporting a blonde toupe, his dome is as bald as a baby's bottom. He is also wearing a Starfleet uniform.

JANEWAY: Doctor? Is that really you?

DOCTOR: Yes.

JANEWAY: Thank God!

DOCTOR: (preening) Well, I don't think I've ever had a patient quite so happy to see me. What are you doing later?

JANEWAY: (ignoring him) And this is Voyager? The U.S.S. Voyager?

DOCTOR: Of course, Captain. (frowns) Where else would we be?

Janeway faints in sheer relief. The Doctor shrugs and turns towards Chakotay. The First Officer is hovering beside a biobed, on which lies Harry Kim, similarly ensconced in a head brace.

DOCTOR: Commander, she's out like a light again. She's rather disorientated but that's to be expected after suffering such a massive head trauma. I'm sure this will have psychological repercussions in the weeks to come. She and Mr Kim are lucky to have survived.

CHAKOTAY: (shaking his head in sorrow) If only our scans of the planet had detected it, this tragedy might have been averted.

DOCTOR: Well, how were we to know that the Captain and Harry's hair would be crushed by the gravity of the planet? I told them to take precautions. Starfleet issue hairspray just wasn't going to protect them. I've had to erect a level 10 force field around their heads. I hope that the hirsutial matrices will hold.

CHAKOTAY: All I can say is thank God we didn't send Seven on the away mission. Even the nanoprobes might not have helped her.

DOCTOR: (glancing over at Janeway and then Harry) Who wants to be the one to tell them that I had to shave it all off? 

They watch as the lights glint of Janeway's perfectly bald head.

DOCTOR: (grimly) Well, I _have_ come up with a solution but I don't know if the Captain's going to like it…

**Later in Sickbay**: Janeway is looking at herself in a hand mirror. Her expression is skeptical. The Doctor is standing over her shoulder, admiring his handiwork.

JANEWAY: (hesitant) I'm not sure Doctor. It's rather radical for me.

DOCTOR: Would you rather be bald? If you want to share in the experience of the jibes that I have to endure every day then you're more than welcome…

JANEWAY: I didn't say that. It's just… 

DOCTOR: Of course, it's just a temporary solution until your own hair grows back. 

JANEWAY: But I just don't feel right about wearing Kes's first season wig. It looks like a Tribble. (pauses as she has a flashback to the U.S.S. Velour and Tom and Harry's wedding reception, Kes's wig rubbing up against her shin on the dancefloor to 'Love is in the Air'.

DOCTOR: Are you alright Captain?

Janeway nods, her cheeks pale.

DOCTOR: I can assure you, Kes's wig is completely inanimate. It's been kept in stasis ever since Kes left the ship. I'm no hairdresser but it's in great condition.

JANEWAY: Alright. I'll wear it. But couldn't I die it to match my natural hair colour? 

DOCTOR: (pursing his lips). Well, everyone's a critic.

JANEWAY: And what about Harry? 

DOCTOR: Ah, well, I came up with another brilliant solution for Mr Kim. The crew have volunteered to donate samples of their hair so that I might weave a wig for Harry. B'Elanna and Mr Neelix were very forthcoming. It's progressing very well, as you can see. (he points towards his office window, through which can be seen a multi-coloured beehive on a pedestal.)

JANEWAY: (thrusting the mirror into the Doctor's hands and making a beeline for the door) I think Kes's wig and I are going to get on fabulously. Thank you Doctor. (under her breath) I wonder what Seven thinks of blondes?

**FIN**


End file.
